Eagle
by Mar Komi
Summary: "And what makes you so gorram sure I'd choose you?" The words were Mal's, and things kinda went downhill from there. A story about loyalty, belonging and the bonds we're not even aware of until they're tested.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Don't own these people. I can only dream about creating characters as wonderful as Joss Whedon's.

**A/N: **This story takes place after "Objects in Space", but before the movie. Inara has left, Book is still on the ship.

English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for the obvious mistakes that's bound to be there.

* * *

><p><strong>Eagle<strong>

_If only for a minute or two_

_I wanna see what it feels like to be without you_

_I wanna know the touch of my own skin_

_Against the sun, against the wind_

_(Lucinda Williams/Side of the Road)_

"And what makes you so gorram sure I'd choose _you_?"

Now, as Mal Reynolds was going through the incidents of the day in his mind, pondering everything that had taken place, it seemed to him that those words had been what started it all. He hadn't really meant it, they were just words, brought on by irritation and lack of sleep, like most of his unkind words, come to think of it.

The mission had been supposed to be easy, but wasn't it always? It was the same ol' procedure: They were on New Lafayette (the first moon of Three Hills) to pick up some hidden contraband (he had no idea what), move out without the locals (or anyone else for that matter) noticing and deliver it on Aphrodite (preferably yesterday). Easypeasy.

Then one of the Tams had done something to irritate Jayne, or maybe both, or maybe vice versa. Mal didn't really know, nor did he care to. Anyway, there had been yelling, some mild violence had ensued, with the blade of a knife somehow ending up in the infirmary wall, and Mal – only wanting a clear headed crew and the job to run smoothly for once – had told everyone in crystal clear Chinese to shut the hell up.

Of course Jayne had to push it. He always did. And if Mal had had a good day, he might have let it slip. But this was not a good day. He'd dreamt about Inara again, which happened more often than he liked these days, and that always seemed to worsen his melancholy and leave him a little snappy. So when Jayne had buzzed on with his usual tirade about leaving the fugitives (etcetera, etcetera) he had told him (in a rather loud voice) to stow it.

Jayne only looked at him for a moment and then said, in an icy cold way, "One of these days, Mal, you might gonna have to choose."

And then Mal had said it. He'd stuck his face close to Jayne's and hissed the words through clenched teeth. "What makes you so gorram sure I'd choose _you_?"

Jayne hadn't said anything after that, and Mal had told him to sit this job out, take the day off and go to the nearby town to blow off some steam.

Things kind of went downhill from there.

Well, not the job. That had actually gone well. They'd found the hidden cargo and loaded it unto the ship without any trouble, but now, as Kaylee was ready to fire up the engine and Wash was plotting a course for their new destination, Mal found himself one man short.

Now, as he entered the bar, with Zoë a small step behind, he scanned the room for the known figure. The place was just like any other backwater drinking hole, dark and dusty and filled with local patrons who looked like they hadn't moved from their spots for years.

"Can I help you?" the bartender behind the counter asked.

"I'm just lookin' for one of my boys," Mal answered truthfully, still scanning the room, though Jayne was nowhere to be seen and it was unlikely he'd miss him.

"You wouldn't be talkin' 'bout a loud-mouthed, mean lookin', summabitch 'bout the size of a barn door?"

Mal could feel Zoë react to this behind his back, and he glanced at the man, but without really turning. "Sounds like 'im."

"Well, he was here. Said you might come."

"Did he now?"

"Left a message for you. Says he don't run with you no more."

Mal eyed him for a moment. "And I'm supposed to take your good word for that?"

The bartender shrugged. "Yeah, he said you might not believe me. So I was to give you this."

From his apron pocket he produced a small object and tossed it down the counter towards Mal. It skipped and jingled like a coin and Mal slammed his hand down on it, stopping it dead in its track. He then picked it up and eyed it more closely. It was flat and circular, about the size of a medallion, made out of metal and with the imprint of a bird-of-prey (an eagle?) on one side.

Zoë looked at it too, peering over his shoulder, and then shifted her eyes to the bartender. "What's this?"

He shrugged again. "He said you'd understand." He went to serve the next costumer.

Zoë turned to Mal. "Sir?"

Mal was still turning the little piece of metal over and over in his hands, but as his first mate spoke to him he sighed and put it in his pocket. "We're leavin'," he said

She frowned. "What about Jayne?"

"We ain't gonna find him. He's gone."

He turned and walked out of the bar. Zoë followed him, knowing better than to ask more questions at this point.

The others weren't quite as easy to quell. He was met with more than a few protests when he returned to _Serenity_ without Jayne, ordering immediate departure. They were all assembled in the cargo bay, looking at him with disbelief, even Simon.

"We can't leave him!" Kaylee exclaimed.

"He left _us_," Mal answered coolly.

"You don't _know _that!"

"I do."

"But he can't have left us." Kaylee's voice was thin and a little quivering now, as if she tried to convince herself, but not really succeeding. "He can't have."

Mal's heart went out to her. He knew what she was thinking. First Inara, then Jayne… Her family was falling apart. But he didn't say anything. Somehow he couldn't find the right words.

"What I find puzzling is the fact that he left all his guns," Shepherd Book said, with Simon actually nodding his agreement. "I was under the impression that he's rather fond of those."

"This smells funny," Wash agreed.

"Well, it don't matter," Mal cut him off. "We're on a clock here. We have a delivery to make, and we haven't got time to look for 'im. Now, get this boat in the air!"

Wash obeyed, albeit a little unwilling, and just as the ship left the ground a few minutes later, River started screaming.

"No!" she yelled. "No!"

Simon rushed forward, grabbing her waving arms. "Ssh, River, it's okay."

"We can't leave!" She tried to wriggle out of his grip, never taking her wide open eyes off the closed doors at the end of the room, panting the words. "In the sky… Not in the sky now."

Mal didn't stick around to hear the rest. He ascended the stairs to find some much-needed coffee in the kitchen.

"Sir?" Zoë had come after him, and he stopped, allowing her to catch up. "You being so sure about Jayne, that has something to do with that coin?"

"Ain't a coin," Mal said, pulling it out of his pocket. "It's an emblem." He held it out to show her. "Jayne tore it off a crate during the first job we pulled together. Said he'd keep it. As a token."

"A token of what?"

Mal shrugged. "I don't rightly know. Loyalty, I guess." He juggled it between his fingers. "That's why he left it. Bartender was right, it's a message."

"And what does the message say, sir?"

"'_I left. Don't follow me'_."

Zoë's face was still cleared of all emotion. "That's a pretty complicated way of communicatin', Captain. This is _Jayne_, after all."

"Jayne ain't stupid!" The words came out more harshly than intended. Could it be this affected him more than he realized? "He's not the most bookish of people, and yes, he's ignorant in every definition of the word, but that don't mean he ain't smart. Besides, no one else would know what this," he flipped the emblem into the air, catching it again, "signifies."

"It's just… Somethin' about this don't feel right."

Mal looked at her, and in the back of his mind he shared her concern. But this was not the time for it. "Jayne's a big boy, and again in every definition of the word. He'll have to fend for himself. And we have to finish this job."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

She headed towards the bridge to join her husband. From the cargo bay Mal could still hear Simon's futile attempts at shushing his sister's protests.


	2. Chapter 2

"And what makes you so gorram sure I'd choose _you_?"

Jayne Cobb blamed the words. Not that he believed them. There was no rutting way Mal would choose the pompous doctor over him. It had been the stress, the frustration talking.

And still the words had left _just_ a big enough piece of doubt in his mind to make him ponder them most of the day. After all, he _did_ recall a certain time spent in an airlock. And it was enough to make him think too much. To cloud his judgment. To let his guard down. To forget paying attention to his surroundings.

And he was in a place where you most certainly _should_ have your wits about you. He sat at the counter at the local bar (another costumer had given up his seat after he'd glowered at him), spending the last of his money on watered-down drinks, and tried to shed that feeling of uneasiness.

Then someone put a gun to his back.

He blamed the words. It shouldn't have been so easy to overpower him.

His instincts told him to fight back, to draw his own gun, but apparently his instincts were a little slow today and so he managed to quell the urge to do what would have been suicide. Instead he glanced sideways at the person holding the gun, who at that same moment sat down in the chair next to his.

"I suggest you let Hui take your weapon," the man said, nodding towards someone Jayne could not see, but sensed moving around behind him, and the next moment a hand removed his gun from its holster.

_Ta ma de. _He _really _blamed the words.

He looked over his shoulder and watched the man who had just disarmed him retreat to the corner of the room, joining another guy already sitting there.

"Hey, Jayne," the man in the chair next to him said. "Remember me?"

Jayne turned back towards him, scowling.

"Rufus Miller," he replied. "I see you're still one ugly summabitch."

He'd recognized the man straight away. Hadn't expected to see him here, though. But then again, people from his past seemed to pop up wherever he traveled in the 'verse. This particular guy he had once been on the same crew with, years ago. What he remembered most about him was his terrible breath and the fact that he'd been an unbelievably bad shot.

"Cigar?" Rufus asked, and Jayne, who never turned down anything he could get for free, accepted it and let the other man light it for him.

"Fancy runnin' into you here," Rufus continued, leaning in closer.

Yup, his breath was still terrible.

And he was still holding him at gunpoint. It was done rather discreetly, under the table. As far as Jayne could tell neither the bartender nor anyone else in the room had noticed.

"Yeah, fancy," he eventually replied. "So how you been, Rufus? Who you workin' for now? You still with Marco?"

Rufus spat out a cloud of smoke with a snort. "Hell no!" He nodded towards the men in the corner. "Don't work for nobody. Got my own crew."

Jayne eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but then he smiled. "Rufus Miller in command." He whistled. "Didn't see _that_ comin'."

"And you're still with Malcolm Reynolds." It was a confirmation, not a question.

Jayne lifted his glass, shook it and fiercely watched the alcohol twirl. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Maybe."

In the corner of his eye he could see Rufus raising his eyebrows and leaning a little forward. "Trouble?" the man asked.

In a swift motion Jayne drained the glass and slammed it down unto the bar. Rufus didn't flinch, he only flicked his fingers to get the bartender's attention. "Another one for my friend here," he said, pointing. Then he patted the counter in a condescending way that gave Jayne the urge to drive a knife through his hand. "Come on, lay it on me, Jayne. He don't appreciate ya?"

Jayne didn't answer, but accepted the new drink the bartender poured him. Rufus pushed on. "I know _I _would. Hell, you used to work for two back in the day. I very much doubt that's changed. So if he ain't treatin' you right, I'd say he's an idiot."

Jayne was losing his last bit of patience. "Whatta ya want, Rufus?"

Rufus leaned back in his chair. "Alright, I'll get to the point. See, there's rumors flyin' about some stuff hidden on this rock, worth a little fortune, I hear. It's also rumored that Captain Reynolds is here to pick up that stuff. And I believe those rumors are true, Jayne. And I believe that _you _know where it is."

Jayne glanced at him, then went back to his drink. "What if I do?"

"You'll take me to it."

"Cuz you're pokin' my back with a gun?"

"Well, there's that. But I'll give you a another reason if you'll take it."

"Let's hear it."

"Like I said, you work for two. A man who pulls the work of two men should get two men's wages, don't you think?"

Jayne eyed him. This was interesting.

"That'll be a lot more than what Reynolds is payin' ya." Rufus chuckled. "Come on, Jayne, it's not like it'll be the first time you turn your coat."

Jayne took a moment to consider, something that definitively wasn't a habit of his. Mal and the crew would be out there searching for the cargo right now, it was possible they had even found it. And since he himself was sitting this one out, the captain would have brought Kaylee instead, and Jayne very much didn't like the thought of the mechanic in harms way.

Still, he didn't seem to have many options at this point.

"It's in the hills," he said. "If we hurry we might beat 'em to it."

Rufus grinned and stood up. "By all means, lead the way then."

"Can I have my gun back?"

"_After _you show us the cargo. Unlike Reynolds I know better than to trust you."

"Yeah… Mal," Jayne suddenly remembered. "Just a moment." Turning around, he yelled at the bartender, waving him closer, "Hey! Man might show up lookin' for me. I want you to give 'im a message. You tell 'im I don't work for 'im no more. Now…" He fumbled through his dozen or so pockets. "He's a suspicious fella, might not believe you." He eventually found the eagle-imprinted emblem he always carried around with him, put it on the counter and slid it towards the bartender. "So you'll give him this. He'll understand."

The bartender raised his eyebrows, but then he just rolled his eyes and pocketed the emblem in his apron. "Whatever."

Together with Rufus and his two henchmen, Jayne left the bar and went into the dessert, following a winding trail up into the hills. He had never been here before, but he tried to give the others the impression that he had, walking with an unworried easiness, and while they walked he considered his options. He was cursing the fact that Rufus had been smart enough to not give him his gun back, but he still had the knife hidden away in one of his boots, and if push came to shove…

Rufus gave him an hour, which was a lot more than Jayne would have given _him, _but finally as they reached a spot where the narrow trail ran along a cliff, he stopped.

"Jayne!" he yelled, and Jayne who had been leading the party stopped and turned around to face him.

"Yes, Rufus?"

"I don't believe you know where you're goin'."

"You don't?"

"Gorram it, Jayne! This ain't the way to the cargo." Rufus drew his gun and pointed it at him, his two henchmen following his lead. "Don't take me for a fool!"

Jayne casually stepped backwards, pretty close to the edge of the cliff now. He glanced down over his shoulder. It was a thirty feet drop at least.

He really wished he'd had more time to come up with a plan.

"But you _is _a fool, now ain't ya?" he calmly answered his former comrade, while he discreetly let his foot slide up the other leg, to get the hidden knife in the boot within reach.

"Oh, _I _am?" Rufus spat. "I ain't the idiot standing at the edge of a cliff with three guns pointed' at 'im. I offered you a great deal here, stupid! You coulda joined me, enjoyed your share of the loot! Now…" He stepped closer, taking aim, "you will tell me where the stuff is really hidden, and _maybe _I will let you live."

"Oh, Rufus." Jayne put on a false mask of regret. "The stuff's most likely on _Serenity _by now."

"_Liu koushi de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi! _What in this gorram 'verse is wrong with you? Now I'm gonna kill you, and whatta ya have to show for it? Your captain thinks you left him, you moron! You'll die here. Alone! When you could've had it all."

Jayne only half listened. How could it be that all the men he had worked with had this habit of yapping and yapping before they shot anyone? Everybody knew it was better to do it the other way around.

He had gotten hold of his knife now and he stood up, ready to throw it.

He was a second too late. Rufus fired his gun.

As the pain exploded in his side, he actually felt a snort of laughter forming in the back of his throat. Apparently Rufus' shooting skills hadn't improved.

He had to take a step back to get his bearings. He felt the ground shift beneath his feet and instinctively knew he was too close to the edge.

Something had helped that rutting, good-for-nuthin' Rufus Miller to stay alive this long, even led him to his own command. As Jayne fell off the cliff he remembered what.

Luck. The man was just gorram lucky.

He felt the impact, the shooting pains throughout his body as it eventually hit the ground. He didn't feel much after that.


	3. Chapter 3

_If I stray away too far from you_

_Don't go and try to find me_

_It doesn't mean I don't love you_

_It doesn't mean I won't come back and stay beside you_

_It only means I need a little time_

_To follow that unbroken line_

_To a place where the wild things grow_

_To a place where I used to always go_

_(Lucinda Williams/Side of the Road)_

Forty-two hours had passed since they left New Lafayette, and everything felt different. A strange atmosphere had fallen over the crew. By God, sometimes it felt like even _Serenity _herself was under the influence of it. Mal had spent the better part of that time trying to pinpoint exactly what the difference was. It was not like people were sad or anything (with the possible exception of Kaylee), they were just… No, he couldn't really describe it.

The trip to Aphrodite had been strangely uneventful. They'd had no trouble with the Alliance or any rival crews, they'd delivered the goods and they'd been paid the agreed-upon fee, and it was good money too. Things should have been looking bright at this point.

Life onboard had been peaceful and quiet, there had been no bickering among the crew, no yelling or fighting. Except for River's fits and rantings, which truth be told had been a little more frequent and intense than usual, nothing particularly _noisy_ had happened. And now, finally, as everybody, except precisely River, were sitting in the kitchen, it suddenly dawned on Mal what was wrong.

Everybody was so gorram _polite _all the time_. _

It was like they were all walking on eggshells around each other, afraid to address the real issues, to talk about the unpleasant things, and Mal realized now what had possibly been Jayne's most important contribution to this crew: He always spoke his mind, he cleared the air, got things out in the open.

He recalled something that River had once told him, just before Inara left. Something about a ball of yarn and that if you pulled one string, you pulled them all. He hadn't understood it then.

He did now.

They hadn't talked much about Jayne in these forty-two hours, but now as they were all sitting around the table he eventually became the topic of the conversation.

"Where do you think he went?" Wash asked. "You figure somebody offered him a job?"

"Most like," Zoë said. "Guy like him shouldn't have any trouble finding work. All things considered, he's good at what he does."

"Still can't believe he left all his stuff, though," Wash continued. "That's so not _Jayne, _if you follow me. All the guns…"

"He'll ask for his guns!" Mal snapped, desperately wanting that weird feeling of… was it betrayal?... to go away. "Once he's settled, _somewhere, _he'll wave me and ask for his guns."

"In that case you should sell them now," Simon said, but something in his voice gave the impression that he didn't really mean it.

"Or better yet, distribute it amongst the rest of us," Wash suggested.

Zoë glanced at her husband, but then turned to Mal. "Perhaps we should think about hiring someone?"

"Stop!" Kaylee exclaimed. "Jayne's been gone less'n two days, and y'all goin' on about sellin' his guns and replacin' 'im. I don't wanna hear it!"

"We need the manpower, Kaylee," Zoë explained, in the softest voice and with the mildest look she could possibly sport under these circumstances.

"Yeah," Mal slowly mumbled. He looked at Zoë. "Do we know anyone?"

She didn't answer, nor did any of the others. The tension in the room suddenly felt even heavier. Simon was staring at his fingers, flexing them, as if he'd just discovered he had them; Book seemed lost in his own thoughts; Kaylee looked at the others, one at a time, as if she was searching for something she desperately needed but knew she wouldn't find.

And then River burst into the room, heading straight for Mal. "The eagle," she shouted. "Must get the eagle. He doesn't fly."

Simon quickly got to his feet and intercepted her. "River," he said, calmly, mildly but sternly, pulling her closer. Then he glanced at Mal over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Captain. She's been going on and on about this eagle ever since we left New Lafayette."

"He belongs in the sky!" River cried. "But they clipped his wings, they broke him, and now he's not flying."

"_Mei mei_," Simon said, and managed to get her to sit down on a chair. "There's no eagle. You need to calm down."

Mal stood up and turned to leave the room, feeling slightly thankful for how River's action had broken the eerie atmosphere, but as he reached the doorway he abruptly stopped, suddenly remembering. He pulled Jayne's emblem out of his pocket and studied it closely.

The imprint.

An eagle.

He turned back towards River and watched how Simon desperately tried to soothe her. If there was anything he'd learned about the girl's rantings it was that they always seemed to harbor some kind of truth underneath all the nonsense.

Could it be?

Well, the girl was a Reader, after all.

He went back to the table. "Now, River," he said, pulling out a chair and taking the seat across from hers. She reacted to this and gazed at him with that knowing, almost nonchalant look of hers. Their eyes met and he kept his face stern and grave. "Tell me more about this eagle of yours."


	4. Chapter 4

Fifty hours since they'd last been there Mal and Zoë entered the bar at New Lafayette once again. This time Mal didn't scan the room. He just went up to the counter, leaned over, grabbed the bartender and slammed him face down on the table, then cocked his gun and pressed the barrel against the man's temple. "Where's my man?" he hissed through his clenched teeth.

"I told you," the bartender protested.

A few of the patrons in the room shouted and Mal heard the scraping of chairs against the floor as some of them got to their feet, but Zoë was covering him with her shotgun and nobody intervened.

"The truth this time!" he yelled at the bartender.

"It _was _the truth, gorram it!"

"Okay then, the _whole _truth!"

The man was panting heavily now. "He was here like I said. He was talkin' to some guy and left with 'im. Went to find some hidden goods in the hills or sumthin'."

Mal, pleased with the answer, let the man go, but kept his gun at him. He glanced over his shoulder at Zoë and nodded and they left the bar.

"Goods weren't in the hills," Zoë said as soon as they were out the door.

"No," Mal replied. "And Jayne knew. Gorram fool!"

He was furious, by now with everyone and everything in this crap-heel 'verse. The anger had been steadily building up inside him during the eight-hour trip back to this god-forsaken moon. Wash had been able to shave three hours of the estimated travel time, but that hadn't been enough to stop him from descending into the pit of self-loathing he found himself in from time to time and always seemed to put him in a lashing mood.

Jayne would never have left his guns! Why had he been the only one not able to _see_ that?

Everybody had been anxious. Kaylee had been constantly pacing all over the ship, driving Wash nuts with her are-we-there-yet?-questions and even tried to squeeze River for more information. But River had gone totally quiet after Mal had finally listened to her and spent most of the trip just staring out into the air.

Now Kaylee and Book were searching for Jayne in town while Mal and Zoë had gone back to the bar, hoping to pick up the trail from there. Which they had.

"So, into the hills then," Mal said.

They left the settlement and spotting the trail leading up into the hills, they followed it.

"You really think we'll find 'im?" Zoë asked after a while, and Mal knew she had been waiting for the right moment to do so. "It's been two days."

He straightened his back and took a second to take in the surroundings. He could still see the town in the valley down below. A pretty nice view if this had been the time to appreciate it.

"Soon as these people realized he was leading them on a wild goose chase, things must've gotten violent," he said. "They killed him or he killed _them_. Either way there should be… _clues_ left for us to find."

"And by 'clues' you mean 'bodies'," Zoë said, more as a remark than a question. He made no reply.

They walked on in silence, both warily scanning the landscape, ready for any kind of action. But things seemed dead quiet up here, and Mal had over the course of his life come to understand that he hated the quiet a lot more than he hated the noise.

They had been on the move for close to an hour when Zoë reached out an arm and stopped him. "There," she said, pointing.

He saw them right away. All the footprints in the sand.

"Yup," he agreed. "This is where the showdown took place."

And it was not a good place for one. They were basically at the edge of a cliff. Both of them scanned the place with their eyes, taking in all the details, and again Zoë was the most observant one.

"Looks like the ground closest to the cliff gave 'way," she said, and carefully stepped closer and peered down.

As always her face stayed ice cold and expressionless, but Mal knew her well and he saw how she clenched her jaws and kept her eyes on one particular spot just a beat too long. And so he knew, before she even said it. "Found 'im, sir."

He went up beside her and looked down and saw the figure sprawled on the ground down below.

The bright orange t-shirt.

The anger inside him became almost impossible to quell, and at the same time he was filled with another kind of emotion, something that made him feel hollow and empty.

For a few moments none of them spoke, and in his mind Mal was already trying to figure out how he should break the news to Kaylee.

"We should…," he finally said, but just then he thought he saw Jayne move his arm a little.

He stiffened. "Did he…?" he began just as Zoë exclaimed, "He moved!"

They had to backtrack a little to find a suitable place for it, but as fast as they safely (or maybe not so safely) could they scrambled down the hill and rushed to their fallen comrade's side.

Jayne was lying on his stomach, pressed up against a rock, which seemed to have stopped him from sliding further down the slope.

Zoë had reached him first. "Jayne?" she called. "Jayne?" She put her fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse and then nodded to Mal. "He's alive."

Mal's sense of relief didn't last long. Alive, yes, but in a terrible shape. His right leg was bent in a slightly unnatural angle a little below the knee, there was blood on his clothes, and the skin on the exposed side of the face was red and sunburnt.

Zoë winced when she saw the broken limb. "Leg's busted."

"Yeah, I saw," Mal replied. He glanced upwards. "You reckon he fell?"

It was a long drop from the cliff overhead, but the slope's angle wasn't too steep and that could have broken the fall at least a little.

"They shot 'im first," Zoë said, nodding towards the bloody t-shirt and what looked to be an exit wound on the left side of the lower part of his back. "Help me turn 'im over."

A groan escaped him as they did so, but he didn't wake. "Flesh wound," Zoë declared after a quick examination. "Bullet went clean through. Been bleedin' a lot, though."

Mal could see that. There was a pool of starched blood in the sand where Jayne had been lying. He cursed.

"Jayne?" Zoë was cupping Jayne's face in her hands, gently slapping his cheek. "Can you here me?" She got no response. Instead she glanced upwards at the sky and then at Mal. "Would probably be easier just to haul him straight unto the ship from here, don't you think?"

Mal nodded his agreement and she stood and walked a few steps away to radio Wash.

On the ground Jayne suddenly moaned again and his head lulled to one side. Mal knelt down next to him, patting his cheek. "Jayne? You with me?"

The mercenary's eyes fluttered open, then another groan and then a yelp of pain as he tried to sit up. Mal put a hand on his chest, gently pinning him to the ground. "Don't try and move. You gotten yourself a little banged up there."

"Mal?" Jayne's speech was slurred and his voice almost inaudible.

"That's right," Mal said, more than a little relieved to hear the man address him by name.

"Ruf.. .s Mi… er."

"Come again?"

Jayne licked his parched lips and repeated the words a little louder and clearer. "Rufus Miller."

A name. He was giving him a name. "He the one did this to you?"

"Yeah."

Mal glanced at the bullet wound. "Must be a bad shot."

Jayne snorted. "The worst." He gave a wince of pain and added, "Thought I could handle him."

Then he was quiet for a while, glancing around, but without really focusing. He was slipping into unconsciousness again, and for a moment he just looked so terribly fragile and worried. "Wasn't sure you'd come," he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"My crew don't get left, Jayne. You know that." Mal gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, just as _Serenity _came into view overhead. "Now let's get off this ball of _goushi_."

* * *

><p>Simon hadn't slept much, only slumbered on the coach in the lounge area outside the infirmary, his alarm clock set on intervals so he could check on his patient once an hour the whole night through. Now it was almost midday and he was dead tired, but he knew there was no rest to be had for a while. He was trying to get the infirmary back in order, things had been kind of chaotic when they'd brought Jayne in the day before…<p>

By the time he'd finished tending to Jayne's multiple injuries it had been late in the evening (_Serenity-_time). Tired, but too tense to sleep he'd gone to the kitchen to get some nutrition (he stubbornly refused to call molded protein _food_), and hadn't really been surprised to find the ship's captain and first mate sitting there. Mal and Zoë often did this when they'd had a particularly tough day, just sat in a room together, keeping each other company, but not talking too much.

Mal had acknowledged him with a look as he'd walked in. "How is he?"

"Bruised, battered," Simon had answered as he'd found his cup and plate. "But stable. I've set the leg as best as I could, it's a little complicated without proper x-ray equipment. Other than that he's a little dehydrated, but IV fluids should see to that."

"He awake?"

"No. I gave him something for the pain and it pretty much knocked him out."

Then Mal had nodded, apparently satisfied with the answers, and gone back to his pondering.

Simon had tried to eat, but only managed a few mouthfuls before the thing that had been bothering him the entire time just wouldn't stay inside his mind anymore. "He shouldn't be alive," he'd said out loud.

Mal had looked back at him, lifting his eyebrows. "'Scuse me?" From her place at the eating table, Zoë had mimicked his expression.

"He was lying there for the whole two days, right?" Simon had exclaimed, a little louder than first intended. "In the sun, in pain, and he was bleeding. Don't get this the wrong way, but any normal man would have died."

"Well, our Jayne ain't normal," Zoë'd said, her lips curving into a little smile as she and Mal exchanged looks.

Simon had smiled a little too, but the thought hadn't stopped bothering him…

He turned to find more disinfectants, smiling at River who was sitting on the counter next to him, but she only had eyes for Jayne who was asleep on the operation table. His leg was now sporting a hip-to-toe cast that Simon, with the assistance of Shepherd Book, had put on him this morning once the swelling had gone sufficiently down. Jayne had only barely been awake during that whole procedure, come to think of it he'd barely been awake at _all _since they'd brought him home.

Yes, _home_. Whether _he_, Simon, liked it or not. And the jury was still out on that question.

He looked at River. She was still staring intently at the big man, like she had been doing for the last few hours. Simon found it a little weird and a lot unsettling. He couldn't understand why she did it, but then again, he didn't understand half the things his sister did.

She suddenly spoke. "Hot," she said, her voice free of emotion and her eyes still glued to the prone figure on the table.

He almost dropped the tools he was cleaning. Merciful Buddha!

"River!" he said, trying not to raise his voice _too _much. "Honestly, there are _millions_ of men in the 'verse more worthy of your affection than this guy. I'm well aware that your options on this ship are rather limited, but…"

She gave him that look of hers that always told him just what a complete idiot she thought he was at times. "Hot," she repeated, emphasizing the word.

He eyed her for another beat and then he slowly turned around and looked at Jayne on the table. He knew what she was getting at now. He saw the sheen of sweat on the man's brow.

"Oh no," he muttered.

He quickly, but carefully started to unwrap the bandages, still muttering "no, no, no" to himself the entire time, and at last he was able to peer under the wrappings at the gunshot wound. It only confirmed what he had been afraid of.

He stepped back, angrily peeled off his gloves and threw them on the floor. "_Ta ma de!_"


	5. Chapter 5

In the kitchen Mal was sitting at one end of the eating table together with Zoë and Wash, while Book was at the other reading… well, a book. Zoë was halfway through her report on last month's fuel expenses when they heard hurried steps on the stairs and Simon entered the room.

"Captain, we have a problem," he said.

Wash, who was balancing his chair on its hind legs, threw his arms up in the air. "The soundtrack of our lives!" he exclaimed.

The doctor ignored him. "Jayne's running a fever."

Even though Mal knew perfectly well what that meant, he – when the doctor failed to continue – still cocked an eyebrow and said, "Yes?"

"Which means there's an infection," Simon continued. Everybody's eyes were on him now; Book had put down his reading material and was paying closely attention to what was being said with a worried frown on his face. "Now, I cleaned the wound as best as I could, but it must have already entered his bloodstream. I…"

"Don't beat around the bush, Doctor," Mal said, a little impatiently but not unkindly. "You got something to say, you go ahead and say it."

"He needs antibiotics. Which we don't have."

Zoë cursed under her breath. Wash, definitively not smiling anymore, tipped his chair back on all fours.

Mal only stared at Simon. "I thought your infirmary was stocked!"

"It is… with basically anything else." There was a desperate look in the young man's eyes. "Look, I'm pumping him full of any antipyretics and immune boosters I've got my hands on, but…" He shook his head.

Silence fell upon them. Mal looked at his own hand resting on the table and slowly tapped his fingers against the wood. "So, without this medicine he'll die?" he eventually asked.

"He might die anyway," Simon replied truthfully. "We're talking sepsis here. As in…"

"Blood poisoning," Shepherd Book gloomily ended the sentence for him.

"But, yes, without it he doesn't stand a chance," Simon concluded. "He'll suffer multiple organ failure and die." He looked down at his feet for a minute. "If we'd found him sooner…"

"Hey, Doc, knock it off!" Mal firmly interrupted him. "Don't need them what ifs and if onlys. It'll do us no good." He straightened in his chair, back in captain mode. "We need _solutions._ Now, what's the name of this drug?"

Simon answered his question, but as with most medical jargon the name slipped from Mal's mind almost instantly. He would have to get it in writing.

"It's pretty common," the doctor told him. "Any place with a trained doctor will probably have it."

"Not more than they could use themselves, though," Book emphasized, eyeing Mal suspiciously.

Mal ignored him and turned to his first mate. "Zoë, get in touch with our contacts in this sector. See if anyone has this stuff or know where to get it."

She straightened. "We goin' on a heist, sir?"

Book got to his feet. "No, wait! You cannot think to _steal _this medicine from others. Now, don't get me wrong, I want to help Jayne, but taking it from people who might need it just as much I just don't feel right about."

Mal glared at him. "First of all, what _you _feel about it don't mean a gorram thing. Secondly," and now he was addressing them all, "I never said nothin' 'bout stealin'."

He looked back at Zoë, then at Simon and then at his hands. "We got some coin, thanks to that job we just pulled." He sighed heavily, hitting the table with his palms. "We're gonna _buy _it."

This seemed to please the good shepherd, as he kept his mouth shut and only nodded.

"Zoë?" Mal repeated.

"I'll ask around," she said and left for the bridge.

Mal sat back in his chair, sighing heavily. Apparently they hadn't hit rock bottom yet.

"This is decent of you, Captain," Simon said.

Mal only offered him a short glance. "Just do what you can."

* * *

><p>This was wrong.<p>

Kaylee was always beside herself with worry whenever somebody got injured, but this… this downright _frightened _her.

Twelve hours into their search, Zoë and Wash still hadn't had any luck tracking down the desperately needed medicine, the captain was stomping around the ship like an angry ox, and Jayne was getting sicker by the minute.

He was on the doctor's table, freezing one moment and sweating like a pig the next. Sometimes he would move his lips as if he was muttering to himself and his hands senselessly grab the air in search for something unseen. And Kaylee had a bowl of water and a rag, and she stayed with him, carefully mopping his face not knowing what else to do.

Shepherd Book was in the room with her, silently pacing the floor with his Bible in his hands. He'd sent Simon to bed for a few hours, worried that the doctor would otherwise collapse with exhaustion, and promised to watch over the patient in the meantime. Now and then his gaze would meet hers and he'd send her a reassuring smile she wanted _so _hard to believe in.

Jayne's eyes suddenly flashed open, then squinted a little against the light before they found Kaylee. She tried to smile. "Hey, Jayne, how you doin'?"

"Mama," he croaked.

"Uh, no," she said, hesitantly. "It's Kaylee."

He turned his face to look the other way. "Mama?"

"He's delirious," the shepherd quietly stated from the other side of the table. "Hallucinating."

"Mama?" Jayne called again.

"Your mama ain't here, sweetie," Kaylee said. She tried to make her voice soothing, but it only came out sounding awfully sad.

"They took her?" he asked worriedly, his breathing becoming increasingly faster.

"No, no, that's not what I meant."

"Mama!" He tried to sit up and almost succeeded. Book hurriedly placed his Bible on the counter, grabbed the sick man's shoulders and tried to ease him back down.

"Take it easy, boy."

Jayne didn't listen to him, or maybe he couldn't hear him. He frantically tugged at the tubes and wires attached to his body, and the preacher let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hands instead to try and stop him. "Jayne, listen to me, you're dreaming."

Jayne continued to fight him, surprisingly strong even in this weakened state. "The gate… forgot… dogs… they'll come… need to…," he groaned.

"For Heaven's sake, Jayne, lie still, you're only gonna hurt youself," the shepherd said. "Kaylee, go wake the doctor, we might have to dope him."

Kaylee didn't move.

This was wrong.

Jayne rambling like River.

Jayne – big, strong Jayne; irritating, annoying Jayne; Jayne who would tease her and thump her over the head like a surrogate big brother; and on occasion, sweet, sweet Jayne who would watch her from across the room in a bar, making sure that none of the local miscreants tried to take advantage of her – crying for his mama.

She couldn't help it. Tears welled up in her eyes and she started crying.

And then River was suddenly there. None of them had noticed her arrival, but like a ghost she had appeared next to Book, and she watched Jayne with a curious expression on her face, as if he fascinated her in some way.

"Oh, River, this might not be the best time to…," the shepherd began, but she just stepped in between him and the bed, sort of nudging him away, and leaned over Jayne, placing her small hand on his brow.

"Ssh," she shushed. "It's alright, sweetheart."

Kaylee stared at her. She'd changed her accent, just like that time with Badger, but a different one this time. Now she sounded like the farmers out on the border planets. Kind of like Jayne, actually.

He relaxed almost instantly. "Mama?"

"Yes, I'm right here," River said. "Now, everything's gonna be fine, darlin'. Don't you worry none."

"Forgot to close the gate. I'm sorry. The wild dogs…" There were still hints of panic in his voice.

"Dogs won't come until nightfall, baby, you know that. I've sent Jo to close the gate. Stop frettin'."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily for a moment or two. "Ma, I don't feel so good," he slurred.

"I know, Jaynie. Just go to sleep now. You'll feel better in the mornin'. I'll stay with ya."

He mumbled something inaudible. She laid her head down on the table next to his, calmly breathing into his ear, until all the tension finally left his body and he slipped back into a deep sleep.

And then her eyes lost all focus and that dreamy stare returned and she was River once again. She abruptly straightened and headed for the door, as if she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be somewhere else, but halfway across the floor she stopped and gazed at Book.

"Don't care much for the monsters in his head," she said, her voice flat and definitely her own. "They scare me."

She continued out of the room, leaving the other two to just stare after her before they looked at each other, both shocked by what they had just witnessed.

"Well, at least he's calm now," Book said and absentmindedly picked up his Bible to continue his silent prayers.

But Kaylee couldn't help but shudder a little. Despite everything, some things about River were just downright creepy.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Book arrived at the infirmary to find Simon bent over Jayne, taking his temperature. As he read the result, it only deepened the frown on his face.

"Not doing so good, huh?" the shepherd asked.

Simon turned towards him. "A hundred and four," he sighed. "And climbing."

Book shook his head. Jayne did indeed look as if the very last of his spryness had left him. He hardly stirred at all, his eyes were closed, his face slack, a breathing mask covering the lower part of it.

"He's having a little trouble breathing," Simon explained. "So I'm giving him oxygen."

He put the thermometer away on the counter and turned around to silently spend a few moments observing his patient from there. "He should have died in that dessert," he said.

Book gave him a sideways glance, encouraging him to explain that statement, and Simon took the hint. "Not that I _wanted _him to. I just don't understand how he managed to stay alive." He sighed again. "Guess he's just too stubborn. Too strong." He paused and then added, "But he won't be strong enough for _this_. If we don't find that medicine very soon we might as well stop looking for it."

"You're not giving up," Book firmly said.

Simon gave yet another sigh. "No." He straightened. "No, I'm sorry. I just feel so useless." He peeled off his gloves and turned on the sink to wash his hands.

"You have _not _been useless, Simon."

The young man pensively wiped his fingers and sent another glance in Jayne's direction. "You know, Shepherd, I thought I was just being professional. Just a doctor worried about losing his patient. But it kind of feels like there's more to it."

"Oh?"

"I don't want him to die. I really don't." He put the towel down and shook his head. "And I don't even _like_ the guy."

Book just smiled. "Don't have to like him, son. You've gotten used to him. Used to him being part of your life. And that bond is a lot stronger than most people realize."

The corner of Simon's mouth curved just a little. "Yeah, maybe that's it."

He turned again, picked up his pen and started making notes in his journal.

"River also seems mighty fixated on keeping him on this ship," Book probed.

"She doesn't like changes," Simon replied without looking up.

"Yes." Book purposely made it sound like that explanation didn't fully convince him, as he mimicked Simon's words. "Maybe that's it."

They heard feet rushing down the little staircase from the cargo bay and next Mal's frame filled the door. "Grab your coat and get ready, Doctor," he said.

"What?" Simon looked confused.

"Zoë finally found someone willing to sell us the stuff. Price he's demanding, we'll be livin' on scraps, but it ain't far and time is an issue here, I'm thinkin'."

Book closed his eyes, silently thanking his Lord, and Simon sighed with relief. "That's good," he said. "And I need my coat because…?"

"Need you to come with me. To verify it's the real deal before we make the exchange."

"Yes," the doctor, absolutely not looking like he wanted to leave the ship. "Right. I understand. Where are we headed?"

"Newhope. Little town called Kuikui."

Simon frowned. "I take it the place is ironically named?"

The captain's face was a mask of stone. "No, not really."

"Uh, okay, but you've dealt with these people before?"

"That I have."

"So there'll be no shooting or… anything?"

"Didn't say that."

"No, of course not."

"Half an hour, Doc."

"Yes. Yes, I'll be ready."

* * *

><p>The rendezvous spot was just a few miles outside of town, and Mal had insisted on parking <em>Serenity <em>in a canyon at the far side of the nearby mountain, out of harm's way, so to speak. From there they had traveled in shuttle 2 (Mal still never used the other unless he really had to). Wash had come along to pilot it, just in case things turned ugly and the doctor would have to be hauled to safety in a hurry. It could happen.

Their contacts were already there when they arrived, and Mal and Zoë cautiously approached them, with Wash and Simon a few steps behind.

"Captain Reynolds!" yelled the smallest of the three men waiting.

"Arrow," Mal called back, as he and his team came to a halt.

"Long time no see."

"I'm here for business," Mal said, making it clear he was not interested in small talk. He'd dealt with Arrow several times in the past, but never liked him and never truly trusted him.

"You got the money?"

"You got the goods?"

Arrow was handed a small wooden box from one of his henchmen and held it up for them to see. "Throw me the coin and you can have it."

"The doctor sees it first," Mal said.

"My, my, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't find me trustworthy," Arrow grinned.

"The doctor sees it," Mal repeated.

"By all means."

Mal half turned to Simon and nodded, and the doctor nervously stepped forward, his eyes glued to the questionable fellows in front of him. Arrow, with a wolfish smile on his lips, opened the box and held it out and allowed the young man to take two small vials of colorless liquid out of it. Simon carefully studied the markings and the safety seals, then turned to Mal and nodded his approval.

"See?" Arrow said as his henchman took the vials from Simon and put them back in the box. "Happy now? The money, please."

Mal took the pouch from his pockets, coins jingling inside. This would cost him everything they'd earned on the last job, except for what they'd already spent on fuel.

Well, so be it. He angrily tossed it to Arrow, who opened it to check the contents and, once satisfied, grinningly gave the doctor a nod. Simon anxiously grabbed the box and hurried back to the others, nervously glancing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Reynolds!" Arrow shouted cheerfully. "You're losin' it, man! You knew I set the price embarrassingly high and you didn't even try and haggle. Boy, you must be _desperate_!"

"Shut it!" Mal snarled at him and turned to leave.

Arrow laughed. "Well, come on, boys," he called to his men. "Best head back to town before that Rufus Miller fella takes off with everyone." He laughed even harder at what was assumingly a joke.

Mal stopped, he felt Zoë stiffen next to him, and they both turned back towards their trading partner.

"'Scuse me," Mal said, "but was I hearin' that right? Did you say Rufus Miller?"

Arrow cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, you know 'im?"

Mal exchanged a short glance with his first mate. "By reputation only. He in town?"

"Yup. Is sittin' down at _Tainted Heart_, recruitin', they's sayin'. Only place he can find people stupid enough to join 'im. Man's a ruttin' moron. Take my advice, don't get involved. Ain't worth it." He waved as he and his men started to walk away. "Nice doin' business with ya, Reynolds!"

Mal watched him leave. Zoë stayed next to him, waiting for his call. Wash and Simon had started walking back to the shuttle, but stopped after a few paces and turned to look at their captain, obviously confused as to why he wasn't coming.

"Zoë?" Mal said.

"Right there with ya, sir."

"What's going on?" Simon asked.

Mal didn't answer him. "Wash, take the doctor back to the boat. Zoë'll come with me. Seems there's still some loose ends need tyin' up hereabouts."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_In case anybody wondered (and didn't bother to look it up), 'kuikui' means 'to be awe-struck with fear'._


	7. Chapter 7

Kuikui was a den of thieves, murderers, gangsters and general misfits. And the pub _The Tainted Heart _was precisely what the name suggested, the tainted heart of the whole rotten community. Mal usually steered clear of the place, only the most desperate times would ever force him to this slum. Because the people who lived and traded here weren't just criminals, they were the _worst kind_ of criminals. The petty kind. The lazy kind, who lacked either the ambitions or the brains to ever crawl out of this dirty hole and move ahead in the 'verse.

But now he was a man on a mission, and he must have looked the part too, because nobody tried in any way to stop them as he and Zoë entered the dark and noisy room. He asked for Miller at the bar and they directed him to an alcove in the far-end corner. He cast one last glance at Zoë, making sure she was still with him in this, and of course she was, stoic and determined as always.

They went up to the alcove, and Mal pushed aside a huge Mongol blocking his way. "Move! I have some business with your captain."

There was only one man sitting at the table, enjoying a meal (if it was ever possible to _enjoy_ the food they served in this sewer). He was not especially intimidating, definitively not pretty, and he looked up at Mal with a mixed expression of arrogance and curiosity.

"Rufus Miller," Mal said coolly. "You know who I am?"

The man lifted his shot glass, saluting him. "Malcolm Reynolds," he said. "I know _you_. This business we're supposed to be havin', on the other hand, I don't recall."

"Well then, allow me to explain. I don't take a particular likin' to people shootin' my men."

The man just chuckled. "Found out about that, huh? Hell, I did you a favor, takin' out Jayne Cobb. That backstabbin' good-for-nuthin' would've sold you out soon as sumthin' better came along. Always did, that boy."

"Didn't sell out to _you_, though," Zoë pointed out.

The smirk on Rufus' face turned into a frown of dissatisfaction and disappointment, but only for a fraction of a second, and then the smug smile was back in place. "Well, I must a'mit he did show an uncharacteristically loyalty t'ward _you_," he said, addressing Mal. "You must be a good captain. And a good captain should have a good crew, so like I said, I done you a favor."

"He ain't dead." Mal's voice came out icy cold and restrained.

This time the smile disappeared completely. "What?"

"Jayne is six feet four, about two hundred pounds, and was standing, what, not too far away from you? That's a pretty big target. And still you only winged him."

Rufus looked nervous now. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mal beat him to it. "Boy, you really _must_ be a crappy shot."

Anger flashed across Rufus' face and he jumped to his feet, drawing his gun. But Mal's was in his hand in a blink of an eye and he fired, and Rufus Miller's luck finally abandoned him and he fell to the floor sporting a brand new hole in his head.

"I ain't," Mal said flatly and then scowled fiercely at the other men in the room, daring them to do anything. Zoë had drawn her shotgun, but it didn't look like she would have to use it, as no one seemed to be in the mood for more killing. The men all dropped or holstered their weapons, indicating that if he left now they would let him.

* * *

><p>"They just let you walk outta there?" Kaylee asked in amazement as Mal several hours later and back on <em>Serenity <em>relayed the incidents for her. "Just like that?"

"Weren't none of them willing to risk their lives over a captain already dead. 'Sides, they all knew I was there for him and wasn't gonna hurt anyone else. Honor among thieves, Kaylee."

"Still." She rolled her eyes in that cute way of hers.

Mal smiled and finished his coffee. "Now, do you think our girl has enough fuel left in her to get us to Boros?"

"If we don't push too hard we should manage," Kaylee replied. "Better go check up on her."

"You do that."

She left for the machine room, while Mal stood and stretched and walked over to the sink to put away his empty mug. Just then he noticed Shepherd Book in the doorway, observing him.

"You spyin' on me, preacher?" he asked.

"Just trying to _see _you, is all," Book replied.

"Didn't know I was invisible."

The shepherd smiled a little. "You're still quite a puzzle to me, Captain. One minute you part ways with one of the members of your crew, acting like it don't bother you at all, and the next you spend all your hard-earned money to save his life."

"Only did what had to be done."

Book stepped a little closer. "Oh, I think there's more to it than that, Malcolm. You _care _about your crew. That's one of the things I've come to appreciate about you. But what I can't understand is why you try to hide it so."

Mal glared at him. It didn't look like the older man actually expected him to give an answer, which was good, because he sure as hell wasn't planning to. "G'night, preacher," he said as he left the kitchen and headed downstairs to the infirmary.

He got there just as Simon came out.

"What's the word, Doc?" Mal asked him.

"Well, it's a little early to know for sure," the doctor replied and glanced back inside at the patient, "but he seems to be responding positively to the treatment. His condition's stabilized and the temperature's gone down a little, so, so far so good, I guess."

"Nice work."

"Thanks. You too."

Simon went on his way and Mal stepped inside the infirmary, eyeing the man on the table. Jayne still looked like a wreck, battered and drawn and feverish, his leg in a cast and IVs plastered to both his hands, and it was to be honest a little unsettling seeing him like that.

Mal leaned against the counter and pulled the eagle-imprinted emblem from his pocket. He absentmindedly started juggling it, throwing it from one hand to the other, while he pondered the shepherd's words.

He _did_ care about his crew. Of course he did. And somehow they had to know. Because why else would they stay with him? He didn't have to tell them how much they meant to him. But then again, he'd never told Inara and…

No, he wasn't going _there_! Not now. Maybe never.

On the table, Jayne began to stir. His eyes blinked open and searched the room until they finally found Mal. "Cap'n?"

Mal pushed himself away from the counter and stepped up to the bed. "Hey there, how you farin'?"

Jayne just glared at him.

"Sorry," Mal said. "_Nage wen ti hen yu chun_." He held the emblem up in front of Jayne's eyes. "Got your message. Actually believed it too. For a while."

"Well, that kinda was the idea," Jayne mumbled.

"Why?"

He sighed and winced a little as it apparently caused him some pain. "Thought I could handle it."

"It was stupid." Mal closed his fingers around the emblem, palming it. "Did make things less complicated for the rest of us, though."

"You finish the job?"

"That we did."

"I still get my cut?"

"Well, here's the thing." Mal glanced up at the ceiling, sighing theatrically. "Money's gone."

Jayne raised one of his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of annoyance and confusion. "You _lose _it?"

"_Spent_ it, actually."

Jayne kept his eyes on him for another couple of seconds, then closed them and took a deep breath, obviously tired. "Better be on sumthin' gorram important."

Mal just smiled. "Yeah."

He turned to leave, then stopped. He had more on his mind but he just couldn't get himself to face the man while he said it. "Jayne… if you ever quit on me, like for _real_… you better tell it to my face. And you better have a real good reason for leaving. No, the Tams ain't one, and while we're on the subject, don't you ever, _ever _ask me to choose between you!"

He paused. There was no response, so he continued, "'Cause you belong on this boat, and I need you on my crew… I _want _you on my crew. _Dong ma?_ "

Still no reply.

"Jayne?" Mal turned back to face him.

And found the man fast asleep.

Gorram it! Here he was pouring his heart out…

He went back to the table and carefully placed the emblem in Jayne's right hand. "Fine," he whispered, smiling a little. "Be like that."

As he exited the infirmary, he almost bumped into River in the lounge area. She looked at him, her face all serious.

"The monsters are gone," she declared.

"Shiny," he smiled.

This made her giggle, and she skipped past him out into the cargo bay. Still smiling he watched her leave and then headed upstairs, hearing the others talk and laugh in the kitchen. "_Just _shiny."

_You wait in the car_

_On the side of the road_

_Let me go and stand a while_

_I wanna know you're there, but I wanna be alone_

_(Lucinda Williams/Side of the Road)_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_T__hanks to everybody who followed me all the way and espescially to those who took the time to review. A nod of gratitude also to Lucinda Williams and her simple but oh so powerful song._

_A very special thanks to Alexander for the translations, insightful information on the Mandarin language and for coming up with the name Kuikui._

_Oh, and '_nage wen ti hen yu chun'__ means '__that's a stupid question'.

_- Mar Komi_


End file.
